


sunrises long since past

by steviesfreckles



Category: The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: (I hope), Character Study, Cooking, Dancing, Fluff, I know I should be working on mu unfinished bit but I can't help it, In Love, Introspection, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Mushiness, Slow Dancing, Slow mornings, True Love, don't tell my wip I'm cheating, everything I want but worry I will never find, fluff that makes you feel something tugging at your soul, you can blame the emotional dumpster fire I call a heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-19 07:46:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22207576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steviesfreckles/pseuds/steviesfreckles
Summary: this is for everyone who ever loved a lazy Sunday morning, a slice of dusty sunshine, and a warm bed that only love could pull you from because that is this story. A fully realized true love in a summer moment that teeters on afternoon. Let love abound in every way.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	sunrises long since past

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you lovely, for being the one who had talked with me until well past three a.m., for being the one to speak words of wisdom until I was dedicated to keeping my happiness, and for willing to stick around while I shattered into pieces and spilled my gooey insides that I much prefer to keep to myself. 
> 
> That feeling that I kept trying to name but couldn't and was left grasping at nothing for a word that didn't exist? This is that feeling. 
> 
> if you want to yell at me about my writing, feel free to do so on twitter @gigidarling_, on snapchat @deviantofnormal, or Tumblr @deathofsirens

Warm. That’s all Alec could feel, teetering on the edge of hot but not quite, Curled up in the covers and fingers tangled with-

Magnus wasn’t in bed. He could feel surprise tickling in the back of his mind.  _ He  _ was usually the first up. It didn’t matter though. Today was his day off, his week off actually. Alec could take all the time in the world pulling himself out of bed. 

He buried his face in the pillow. It still smelled of sandalwood and amber and pear. It still smelled of Magnus. He twisted within the gold, silk sheets and blearily opened his eyes. The sheer curtains fluttered in the summer breeze from a cracked window, and dust motes floated lazily through the air. 

Alec could get used to this. He wanted to get used to this. 

He rolled himself to the edge of the bed, sitting up and swinging his legs from beneath the covers. The hardwood floor was cool against his unsocked feet. Alec was languid at best and half comatose at worst. Stumbling out to find his love was the only thing that drifted through the drowsy fog. 

There he was, a homing beacon of heat to Alec’s sleep drunk stupor. To him, Magnus was the most beautiful just like this, hair a mess, leftover makeup smudged beneath his eyes, in boxers and one of Alec’ s sweaters that hung just a little too big. It was a privilege to get to see Magnus, without his glitter and eyeliner and silky clothes, without his armor. 

Alec let the padding of his bare feet sound through the kitchen, telling his love that he was up. Magnus was stood over the stove, cooking from scratch instead of the usual summoning from around the world. It was one of Alec’s favorites, he could smell already; the cinnamon and nutmeg and carraway in an off-brand Indonesian french toast that they had created together on another slow morning, just like this one. It made Alec smile, to know that this little thing, this insignificant intricacy, was so noteworthy in his lover’s mind. 

He shuffled forward the last few paces, curling his arms around Magnus’ waist from behind and nestling his face into the soft expanse of tan neck. “Good morning darling,” when Magnus barely got a huffing call in response, he continued, “sounds as though you’re not quite awake yet.” Through the joy in his voice, he sounded just as soft as Alec’s tender hold. 

Even in their differences, they were the same in all the ways that mattered. It made Alec ache, he was so in love with the man he was holding. He wondered so often, ‘how could someone this flashy, this impactful, this star-spangled meteor crash planets have finally aligned sort of man love him just as much? Just alec, just plain, just minute, just time passing train window god is it really Tuesday sort of man.’ He knew that if Magnus could hear him, he would grab him by the face and hold his stare with those magnificent eyes and tell him, “you, Alexander, are not  _ just  _ anything.” and all would right itself in Alec’s world. 

He felt so deeply loved, so fully lost within himself, drowning in every kind of feeling with Magnus it made his bones ache to be with him, even when they kissed, there was still too much space. Alec’s soul wanted to climb inside Magnus’ body and lay claim to all the bruised and shattered pieces, not to heal, not to say, “I love you in spite of your broken,” but to gather each and every sliver close and whisper, “I love you  _ because  _ of all your missing parts.”

He knew Magnus, inside and out. He knew the crack in his voice when he talked about his mother’s disgust. He knew the tremor in his hands when he mentioned how he learned from his father. He knew how Magnus’ eyes flashed when Alec talked about before, before Maryse came around, before Magnus had dropped into his life, before he felt safe. He knew the sound of his smile and the way his fingers pressed into Alec’s skin before the rest of his hand when he pulled him close to kiss him. He knew what kind of sigh meant he loved a book and which one meant he hated it. Every nuance of this being, this god among men, was carved into Alec’s consciousness and he would never take it back. 

As his mind wandered in all of these things, Alec laid feather-light kisses along Magnus’ throat. He could not imagine a world in which this love was not all-encompassing, in which he did not want to press his lips to every inch of skin he could get his hands on. So Alec kissed and nibbled and whispered sweet nothings until the stove clicked off, breakfast forgotten in favor of bathing in this adoration, the purity of being so totally enamored. 

Magnus eased around to face him, still caught in the circle of his arms and kissed him. God, how Alec thrived on every slide of tongue and shift of lips. He swore that nothing in this world was real, nothing except for this, these moments. Hands sliding beneath his shirt and gripping at his hips, open-mouthed kisses pressed onto his jaw, bruises sucked into his neck. He lost himself to this bliss, this utter devotion in which Magnus worshipped him and Alec found himself bowing at Magnus’ alter in return. 

They pulled apart, breathing a little heavy and foreheads resting against the other. Alec fluttered his eyes open and nearly caught his breath at the sight. Golden eyes, there as they were every day, always on display for him. Even after time upon time he never got used to it, the awe inspiring moment in which he got to see every inch of Magnus, every modicum of his soul. 

“Hi.” Magnus let out a breathy laugh. 

“Hello,” Alec returned, all too happy to gather up a smile. 

It took a few moments before Alec realized they had begun to sway, not quite dancing to a phantom beat. He felt the magic spark between Magnus’ fingers, and music fell through the air. It took only a shuffling moment before they were truly dancing, twisting and turning slowly through the slanting sunbeams on the kitchen floor. 

There are moments in life, Alec realized, that no matter how small they might be, no matter how trivial a handful of minutes might seem, they were worth more than gold. He wished he could freeze this snapshot of time and play it again and again and again, so even on his worst days he could feel the summer heat warming his skin, and Magnus’ love warming his soul. Alec could never tire of these small snippets, these monumental occasions. He loses himself here, sweeping through the loft in gentle arcs, kisses still caught between them every now and again, feeling for the first time in his life, that there is no duty, no responsibility, no greater purpose or bigger picture that matters, because all he needs, all he loves so truly, is right here in his arms. 

  
  



End file.
